The Efficient Escalation
by bazingafan
Summary: Sheldon decides to try out French kissing. Short story set early in Season 8, written first person from Amy's point of view. Rated M for mature content.
1. Chapter 1

_Description: Sheldon decides to try out French kissing. Short story set early in Season 8, written first person from Amy's point of view. Rated M for mature content._

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><p><strong>Hello! Here is a multi-chapter one-shot for you. Enjoy! - <em>bazingafan<em>**

**Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. They are the property of the creators of **_**The Big Bang Theory**_**. T****his fic is rated M. It contains material only suitable for adults. **

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><p>I'm still not sure what caused it. In fact, I may never know. The night was so ordinary, like any other at Sheldon and Leonard's apartment. We had Thai food, video games and chatting (mainly among the girls). But every now and then the guys would talk in between noodles and staring at the screen, about things that made sense only to some, of course. But everything made sense to me. It always did.<p>

I was in the middle – my usual place, of course, in more ways than one. I sat in between Howard, Bernadette and Sheldon, somehow managing to squeeze my not-so-tight bottom into a way-too-tight position. Bernadette had insisted on sitting next to her husband, and I, for one, was definitely not going to get up and leave my boyfriend. So, I was sandwiched in the middle, my shoulder and arm touching my boyfriend's perfect skin, my red chicken curry balancing delicately between my knees.

Sheldon glanced at my legs, parted slightly beneath my skirt to hold the food. He said nothing and looked back at his rice.

When I said I was in the middle in more ways than one, I wasn't exaggerating. I'm not kidding when I say I feel like I'm pulled from both ends of a string. Glancing over to Penny, her hands grazing over her shortened hair, I thought about how I was the only one in the group that had to go both ways to fit in. I was one of the girls _and_ one of the nerdy guys. It was almost like I had to maintain two personalities, and it was a lot of work, to say the least.

Penny looked over and saw me, giving me a nod, and I lifted my chin in response. I had told her that I loved her new hairdo, while I had agreed with my boyfriend that it was too short.

See? In the middle.

Sheldon was now talking to Penny about his new field of study – dark matter. I'm still not sure why he attempts to talk to her about these things – maybe to feel superior? Probably. If so, it was certainly working. Penny held that glazed look she always did, before glancing over to me for guidance and rescue. I smiled back, reminding her that I was a girl, like her, and even though I understood everything Sheldon was saying, I could still be her friend. Her best friend. Her bestie, even if it meant I had to try so damn hard.

Sheldon looked over to me and I nodded in agreement, of course. He smiled – that adorable, sideways smile that always made me feel weak to my knees. His eyes lingered longer than usual, moving over my face, and that's when I knew something was up. This wasn't going to be an ordinary, like any other night in Sheldon and Leonard's apartment, kind of evening. No. Something was different, and I felt it in my bones. I found myself shuddering uncontrollably, my chicken wobbling along on my knees.

Sheldon's eyes were still on me. "Are you okay?" he asked.

I grabbed my take-out container before it hit the floor. "Yes," I breathed, my arm grazing his skin while I gasped for breath. Sheldon adjusted in his cushion to make more room for me, but there was nowhere to go.

Something _was_ different. But what else did I expect? Things were going to change, and that was for sure. Leonard and Penny were engaged. Sheldon had changed his field of study. The comic book store was closed down. Penny's long locks were gone. And Amy… well, I waited patiently, as usual.

I looked over at the happy couple and felt my stomach clench. Where will they live? Where will Sheldon live? What will happen to all of us? There were so many questions, no answers, and nothing I could do about it. I couldn't ask him... no way. I couldn't go down _that_ road again and risk freaking him out. So, as usual, I sat there happily, stuffing noodles into my mouth.

"Howie and I need to get going," Bernadette announced and stood with her husband in tow. I popped out of my wedge and almost fell over onto their cushion, Sheldon catching me and my curry. His hand was strong on my arm.

"Whoa!" I said, and straightened myself, trying to untwist my skirt from under Sheldon's grasp. After a moment of awkwardness, we both settled back in, while everyone in the room watched in amusement.

"We're going to head out as well," Leonard said, grabbing plates and taking them to the kitchen. "We're going to a movie. Do you guys want to come?" He looked at us.

I opened my mouth, but Sheldon waved his hand. "Amy and I are going to stay here." He looked over at me. "Right, Amy?"

I looked at him, a bit irritated. I hated it when he answered for me. "Actually…" I began.

"Please, Amy." He had that strange look again. What was going on? Looking over to the others, they seemed perplexed as well. I sighed, waving my hand.

"Sure, Sheldon. You guys go and have fun."

Penny smiled as she picked up the remaining containers of food. "You two _behave _yourselves," she teased, a smirk plastered in my direction. _God, her hair is so short, _I thought without thinking. I smiled back at her, suddenly eager for her exit, and my wish was soon granted. It wasn't long before all of our friends were gone and we were alone; Sheldon busy in the kitchen making tea.

I scanned the area: everything looked to be clean. So I sighed, closed my eyes and imagined Sheldon kissing me good night. That's pretty much what I do and live for these days.

"Amy." I heard him say. When I realized it wasn't in my head, I turned to meet his eyes. He was sitting next to me again, tea cups in hand, waiting for me to grab one. _Wow, that was fast._ I took it carefully and smiled, blowing it some before bringing it to my lips. Sheldon watched me intently.

_What is going on with him?_ I brought the beverage down, hugging it close to my chest for warmth as I stared back to the man I love. Yes, I do _love_ him. I love him so much that it scares me, but not as much as it scares him.

He had a serious and confident expression, like when he's ready to tackle a task at work. _What is he contemplating? _I waited as he placed his cup down, blinked at me, and cleared his throat.

"Amy," he began, confident and in a matter-of-fact way, his shoulders rigid against the back cushion. "As you know, I've been trying to adjust to the fact that Leonard and Penny are moving, ah, _forward_. That means that the future is uncertain. _Our_ future is uncertain."

I caught my breath. I was about to open my mouth to protest, but Sheldon held up his hand. "Now. Now. Don't worry. Let me finish." He cleared his throat again. "I had time to think while I was on my trip, and as you know, part of the reason I left was because of you."

I tried to follow his face for emotion, anything, but his expression was stoic. He looked over me, into the air.

"I have decided, given these uncertain times, that the best thing for me to do… for _us_ to do… is to move forward as well. Now, before you get excited…" He gave me a warning look. "I'm not talking about the same thing that I know you are obviously thinking. I know what you want, Amy. You don't need to say it anymore."

I wasn't sure if I should feel hurt or excited. He met my eyes again.

"I want to take small steps, Amy. Small, tiny, _itty, bitty_ steps. We will take this very, very, slow. I'm talking little, microscopic steps. But they _will_ be steps forward; I assure you. I've decided that it is too overwhelming to think long-term, so in order for both of us to be happy, we will plan each step as it comes and deal with it, and then move on when we are both comfortable." He stared at me. "Small steps."

I blinked; his gaze almost turning me into stone. For a moment, I couldn't feel anything, not sure what to say or think. But then, slowly, excitement began to build. His words weren't ideal, but this was Sheldon, was it not? And, truth be told, I actually liked the idea just as much as he did. Going forward, even at a snail's pace, was okay with me. In fact, it was more than good enough for me.

"Yes!" I said, a little too enthusiastically, startling us both. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as a smile spread across my face. Sheldon's lips turned up with satisfaction.

"Very well, then." Sheldon's smile was now the shape of a semi-circle, spreading slowly from one ear to the next. "So… I'm glad to have that settled. Shall we call it a night, then? After we finish our tea?"

"Oh." I cleared my throat abruptly. "Wait. Shouldn't we talk about this some more?" I let out a breath, slowly preparing myself for disappointment. I had Sheldon's attention, though. Here goes.

"What should the first step be?" I asked. "Can we begin now?"

Sheldon's eyes widened as his head shook slightly. "Amy, Amy. Oh, Amy. You are always the clever one, but don't you see that the first step was this conversation? We shall start at a later date to be determined."

"Oh." I felt my knees shake a bit. I looked at the coffee table, my heart fluttering, trying to decide what to say next. Let it go? Wait? Go home? Ask something else? With a deep breath, I turned my head, and looked him square in the eye.

"No," I said firmly. "I at least want to know what the next step will be. Have you decided that? If not, we can decide it now."

Sheldon's smile faded a bit, and I noticed redness creep across his cheeks. He took a moment, before speaking carefully, "Yes. I have decided."

"Oh." I watched him look away, and then back again, before regaining his composure. Lifting his chin, he spoke again with confidence and authority. "French kissing. I have observed Leonard and Penny doing this, and I feel that is the next logical step. Our kisses need to progress to another phase, it seems, and we can work on that. When we are ready."

He paused, and added, "By the way, did you know that French kissing didn't necessarily begin in France?" Smiling, he took a breath and continued, "It's never been proven, and in fact, the name probably derived from the fact that the French were the first people to allow public displays of love and affection such as kissing and dancing. Also, a general in the army once said that the French would rather make love with their hands than fight and battle, so that's why…"

"Sheldon," I interrupted, scooting closer to him. He instinctively moved back, his face flushing spontaneously. I grabbed his hands and looked into his eyes. "I'm ready for my goodnight kiss. And I want to start the experiment tonight." I cleared my throat.

"Please."

"You…" Sheldon's jaw was set, a small tick jutting at his right eye. But he recovered quickly, sitting up straight and placing my hands in his lap, along with his. He glanced at my lips. "I would like to kiss you, standing, by the door, like we always do." He cleared his throat. "I told you – small, tiny, microscopic, little, teeny…"

I sighed. "Okay. Fine." Getting up, I pulled him with me, eager for my kiss, whether it was French or not. As we walked, I heard him shuffle behind me, but then after a moment he stopped, pulling me back toward the couch.

He was shaking his head. "I sense that you are mad, _as usual_, so let's just get this over with." He sat back to his spot and patted the cushion. "I accept your challenge, Amy Farrah Fowler. Sit down and let's do this."

_Was I dreaming?_ No, this was real. With my jaw dropped, I walked back and slowly sat down, the leather sticky under my knees as I slid around. He turned his body as well and moved closer, a look of determination on his face. Before I could think and knew what was happening, his soft lips were on top of mine, the familiar scent and taste of him flooding my senses, taking me back to every single time he landed this close to me. His lips were always soft and warm, his pressure not too hard but not too soft, his nose tickling mine as he breathed in and out.

He moved his head back, a small smile turning up on his cheeks, and he moved his hands along my arms. "Okay," he announced. "I've done some research already, and I think this time you should turn your head more, and I will turn mine, and we have to part our lips."

I nodded, my head swimming with this new information. _Research?_ As I watched his expression, it occurred to me that perhaps this was what he really wanted to do tonight, after all. Could it be? I scooted closer and turned my head, while Sheldon turned his in the other direction. All at once, our noses smashed together, and we both lurched back.

"Ouch." A giggle escaped my lips. Sheldon sighed out of exasperation. "Amy, come on, this is serious. We have to do it correctly." He turned his head to the right. "Now, you turn your head the other way."

"Yes, sir," I said, and when Sheldon heard that, his eyes widened with shock, and then crinkled with satisfaction. So, I turned my head in the direction I was supposed to, and we joined together again, lips puckered and ready. I felt the softness of his skin again: the smell, the taste, the absolute wonderful essence of Sheldon Lee Cooper. I found myself moving my arms up his and around his back, and we meshed together closer than we had ever meshed before. Our noses had found their spots, and all was wonderful as his lips slipped across mine. But then, he broke away suddenly, out of breath.

"We're still not doing it precisely; we have to part our lips!" In an instant he was back on me, his mouth open, his teeth hitting mine with a loud clank. I jolted back and covered my mouth in pain.

Sheldon sighed and put his head in his hands, rocking back and forth. "No, no, no. This isn't going to work. We should go back to the other way."

"No!" I almost screamed, and he jumped like a cat. I grabbed him, holding on for dear life, not letting the moment slip away. "Close your eyes," I commanded and slid close to him again, determined to figure it out, determined to hold him, and to love him as much as I could. Sheldon's lids fluttered and moved down as I placed both hands on his cheeks, tilting his head to the side. Then I brought my face down, confidence building, hoping in my heart of hearts that he wouldn't freak out.

I'd seen this; I'd read about this; I could do this.

I felt his lips shake slightly when I touched him. Bringing my hands around his neck, I cradled his head as I parted my lips and moved to touch him, kissing his sweet mouth with all of the passion I had to give. Sheldon couldn't help but open up to me, and soon our tongues were moving together in rhythm, and Sheldon was definitely kissing me back.

I didn't expect to feel so light-headed. I almost fell over from the excitement, but somehow I stayed in my spot when Sheldon wrapped his arms around me. He moved forward and soon was towering over me, moving his lips as if he were tasting me for the very first time.

Well, I suppose he was.

We broke away breathing heavily, looking at each other briefly before we were back together, arms entwined, lips moving in rapid strokes. I couldn't think about anything; I could only feel and move and breathe. It was possibly the best moment of my life.

When Sheldon lifted, I quickly realized that we'd been close to lying down on the couch. In an instant, I watched as he moved back over to his spot, holding his heart with one hand, his head with the other; his face red and flushed.

"Amy," he said, catching his breath. Then he looked over, seeming to be at a loss for words. _Wasn't that something?_ I smiled, smoothing my skirt, straightening my back, trying to keep myself from bursting with excitement. After all, I was a scientist, and a lady on top of that. Clearing my throat, I stood, smoothing my hair and keeping my head high.

"Thank you, Sheldon," I said in a proper way. "I appreciate your willingness to experiment this evening, especially after you said you wanted to wait. I look forward to taking more steps with you."

"Yes, yes…" Sheldon straightened his back and took a shaky breath. "You are correct, Amy Farrah Fowler. We should take small steps, like I said before. You are correct to agree with me, and we will work in the future toward a further goal."

We looked at each other: assessing, thinking, breathing. I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted to taste him, to wrap my arms around him and move my fingers through his hair. I wanted to kiss his neck…

Sheldon widened his eyes, which caused me to turn away. _Where was my freaking purse? _ I walked over to the kitchen, searching, and then spotted it near the coffee table, next to the tea cups. Then I scurried over, feeling his eyes on me, my lips still tingling with anticipation.

"Good night, Sheldon. Thank you for a lovely evening." My bag found my shoulder as I sprinted to the door quicker than the speed of light. Why was I in such a hurry? What was wrong with me? My hand on the doorknob, I pulled clumsily, but it wouldn't budge a bit. I jumped when I realized Sheldon was behind me.

"It's locked," he said. He reached over me, turning the latch as I felt his breath tickle my neck. We stood there motionless, my back to him, his breathing into my hair, for what seemed like forever. Did he want another kiss?

_Turn around_. But for some reason, I couldn't do it. I just wanted to leave, because I was scared. _Scared silly_. There were too many emotions, too many sensations. It was just too raw and _too much_. I couldn't handle it. So, without another word, I flew open the door, knocking Sheldon in the process, and I got the hell out of there. In a split second, I was gone, running as fast as I could to my car.

_Why had I left?_

It was just an ordinary night that had turned extraordinary. But I had ruined it. Instead of staying to see what Sheldon wanted, to see if he wanted yet _another_ kiss, I had run away scared. I missed my chance, and I wasn't going to get it back. At least that's what I thought.

Because little did I know, the night wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. :)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. They are the property of the creators of **_**The Big Bang Theory**_**. T****his fic is rated M. It contains material only suitable for adults.**

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><p>I ran.<p>

I ran as fast as I could: down the stairs, out the door, up the sidewalk; my feet punching the ground, my arms flailing around me in a state of panic. The main objective was to flee, to run like the wind, even as my phone buzzed relentlessly through my skirt pocket. The blasted sound was easily ignored until I entered my car, shaky hands on the wheel, slow lungs releasing hot, raspy breaths. I quickly pushed the car into drive, the other hand balancing the phone, and then I saw him, right there on the screen: his smiling, incredibly handsome, incredibly irritating face.

So there he was, the object of my love and increasing anxiety, trying to reach me through this little wave of technology inside of a sweaty palm. As I stared, for some reason, my foot decided to "accidentally" hit the accelerator, and to my surprise, the car quickly lurched forward with an astounding jolt. With a mind of its own, the car moved right toward its target: a solid brick wall, which was, of course, Sheldon's apartment building. I responded by slamming the brakes as hard as I could (just before I crashed, thank goodness) and then proceeded to just sit there, gazing at bricks in front of me, sitting still in the dim light of a deserted lot.

I asked myself again — _what in the world is wrong with me? _— before shaking my head in disgust. Maybe I needed to go to a doctor, or perhaps even a psychologist. Perhaps. It wasn't the first time I'd asked myself this question. Shakily, I finally pried my hands from the wheel and rubbed them across my cheeks — an attempt to bring myself back to reality and organize my thoughts. I was better than this, damn it. I was Amy Farrah Fowler.

"Amy Farrah Fowler!"

I jumped out of my skin. Not literally, of course, but it felt like it. For a moment, the car jolted too as my foot temporarily left the brake. I quickly changed gears, grabbing my keys in haste and turning off the engine.

And there he was.

Why? Why was he at the window, and why was he beating on it? A familiar knock, as usual, in raps of three. _What did he want?_ I stared at him a moment before finally pushing the button to move the glass down, revealing his puffy and red-faced expression, fuming and blowing into my eyes.

"What are you doing?!" he exclaimed, spit escaping his lips. "Your car is on the curb! I saw you almost crash!"

"I —" My voice started with a crack, but then I halted as soon as I began. What could I say? _Yes, I'm an idiot, Sheldon. Your girlfriend is an idiot. _Is that what he wanted to hear? Is that what he was thinking? Looking up, I couldn't tell if he was concerned or just plain irritated. Then with closer, more careful observation, I had my answer. He was raging mad.

"Amy, have you lost your mind!?" he screamed.

I wiped my face. His saliva was everywhere, and not for good reasons. "I'm sorry, Sheldon; it was an accident…" I began. Bringing my lips together, I held my breath as I stared at him, blinking, bringing him back into focus. Then I noticed something — something hanging out of his nose.

"Sheldon, what's —" But then I stopped again, when I realized that his nose held a tissue filled with blood. I shrank back into my seat, eyes closed.

"Amy, this is not acceptable," Sheldon scolded. "Do you hear me? Can you look at me?"

I let out a breath. "No."

"What? What do you mean, no? Look at me! Do you see what you did to me?"

Irritated, I began to roll up the window, and instinctively, of course, he grabbed it before it made it all the way.

"Amy! Stop!" Sheldon screamed. I was smashing his fingers. Goodness! In a flash, I scrambled for the other button, bringing the window back down as quickly as I had brought it up. But, of course, it was too late. Sheldon jerked his fingers to his chest, holding them next to his stomach as he wrenched in pain.

"Amy, have you gone completely mad!?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I opened the car door, watching as Sheldon took several steps back, flinching with terror. When I slammed it back, my eyes became fixated on my car, which was still up on the curb, a narrow line between it and the apartment wall. _Was_ I losing my mind? I looked back to Sheldon, my eyes brimming with tears.

"I'm so sorry, Sheldon," I repeated. "I'm not sure what's wrong with me." I watched as he straightened his back and wrung out his fingers, one by one, taking his time as he did so. Then he reached up, finding the tissue in his nose, keeping it secure.

I felt my face cringe as I watched him. "Did _I_ do that?" I asked.

Sheldon sighed, calmness finally beginning to spread over his features. "Yes, you did, Amy," he said in a low tone. "When you ran out, the door slammed into my face."

There was silence and a stickiness in the air while we stood, staring at each other, assessing once again. However, this time the sexual tension was gone, replaced by confusion, and a longing to escape. Again. If only I hadn't forgotten how to drive.

"Amy," Sheldon said with authority. "You seem to be having some kind of biological reaction to our encounter on the couch." He sighed, his fingers moving in and out while he studied me.

"Is your heart rate elevated?" he asked.

I placed my hand over my heart, which was pounding against the buttons of my blouse. "Why, yes," I whispered.

Sheldon nodded, his lips twisted in recognition. "Of course. I thought so. You tend to be a bit excitable, don't you agree, Amy? So it seems that our kiss has triggered some kind of fight or flight reaction in you, more commonly known as an adrenaline rush." He paused for effect. "In fact, right now, your lungs are probably pumping extra oxygen into your bloodstream, and your heart is probably moving hormones throughout your entire system. You should be experiencing symptoms of heightened awareness and increased respiration. Do you feel that? Do you feel lightheaded, Amy?"

I took in some breaths, averting my eyes. "Uh… yes. Sure."

Sheldon nodded again, matter-of-factly, placing hands on his hips. "Yes, indeed. The human body is an amazing machine, is it not Amy? Tell me, do you think you could pick up the car right now? I've heard of such things…"

"Sheldon," I interrupted, taking a step toward him. "I'm sorry for running out of the apartment the way that I did, and hitting you in the face with the door, and smashing your fingers with my car window…" I trailed off, looking toward my car. _And_ _almost crashing into your apartment building, _I thought. After a long pause, I looked over in Sheldon's direction while he stared at me intently, waiting for me to continue.

"So," I went on, "I realize that indeed I have had some sort of adrenaline-infused experience. I'm a biologist, Sheldon, so you don't have to tell me that." Clearing my throat, I ignored him as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm not sure if biology is the answer as to why I'm acting this way," I said, holding up my hand for his attention. "I'm confused as to why I would want to get away from you — the flight response, as you said. Especially since I'm the one that kissed you to begin with…"

"Whoa," Sheldon interrupted. "Hold on there, Missy." He furrowed his brow. "The French kissing was _my_ idea."

I sighed. "Yes, of course it was. But the kiss – the _French_ kissing – was initiated by me."

Frowning, Sheldon looked away, twisting his lips. "Well. Yes. Well. I'm the one that was kissing you, not the other way around."

I stared at him in disbelief. "What?" Then I sighed, relenting. "Why does it matter so much? The fact is that I ran away from you, and that is what we are trying to figure out here."

"I kissed you, Amy. And I did so correctly."

"Okay, fine, Sheldon. _You_ kissed _me_."

Sheldon didn't look convinced, but he nodded, bringing his eyes back to mine. "Very well, then. At least we can agree and proceed with our analysis."

There was silence, except for cars in the distance, exiting the highway. I twisted my fingers in front of me. "Well, I enjoyed the kiss, Sheldon. Very much."

Sheldon moved his hand to his nose, as if he didn't hear me. He removed the tissue, turning white for a moment when he saw it. "Dear Lord," he said, and quickly threw it to the ground, next to the car. When he lifted his head to look back at me, I was surprised that he held a humble, almost sheepish look.

"If you enjoyed the kiss, then why did you run away?" he asked.

Why _did_ I run away? That was the question of the century, wasn't it? I began to feel my heart race again. The wind was picking up and I rubbed my arms, shuddering for what seemed like forever. Was he hurt by my actions? It was hard to tell. I had to say something though, I knew, but what? I didn't understand it myself.

"I don't understand it myself," I finally said, with nothing else to offer but my thoughts. I was quiet, and he was quiet for what seemed like forever, until I let out a loud sigh.

"Sheldon, I apologize again. For everything. Let's just call it a night, shall we? We can discuss this further tomorrow."

Sheldon shook his head before lifting his eyes. "Maybe we should French kiss again to figure out the reason," he said with a frown, his gaze intense. "It's the only way to know what's wrong with you."

I took in a shaky breath. "Oh." And after another moment, I whispered, "Now?" and Sheldon responded with a hasty nod.

Then we just stood there, like statues, the wind blowing and cars rolling one by one in the distance. Maybe I heard him wrong. Aren't we supposed to kiss now? I felt my heart beat again.

"Well?"

Sheldon gazed at me. "What?"

"Aren't you going to kiss me?"

Sheldon stared, then lifted his hands to his hips. "Kiss you?" He blinked, bewildered by my comment. "But, why do I have to do it?"

I felt my jaw drop for a second. "Sheldon Lee Cooper, just now, you argued with me that _you_ were the one that kissed me before. Now I have to initiate it again? No way, sir. _You_ do it."

Sheldon took a step back, shaking his head, his feet dancing for a minute like they were on coals. "You have a lot of nerve, Amy Farrah Fowler," he said, his voice deep and serious. "I am injured. Do you see me? Do you see what you've done to me? Tonight you have used your feminine wiles against me. You have bloodied my nose, ran away from me like the plague, forced me to come after you, smashed my fingers, and now you insult me with your lies and exaggeration. Not to mention that you almost crashed into my apartment building. I am simply trying to help you, Amy Farrah Fowler, trying to help you figure out why you are acting like a crazy person, why you feel the need to ruin my evening simply because we touched tongues. I don't have to stand here and deal with this, or deal with you, or deal with your insults any further. Good evening, Amy, and I hope that you make it home without falling into a ditch, or crashing into a building, not that I would care, or that it would be my problem to begin with."

And with that, he turned on his heel, his head held high, and left me standing there, alone, cold, in shock, and _angry_.

_What did he just say to me?_

So once again, I thought my evening was over; I thought I had ruined my chances, missed another fateful opportunity with the man I loved, the man that just told me I insulted him by asking him to kiss me.

But once again, the night was far from being over.

Because when I did finally get into my car and drive down that road, down that lonely highway with tears in my eyes, I was met later — much later — by a visitor at my apartment door.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading. :)<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. They are the property of the creators of****_The Big Bang Theory_****. This fic is rated M. It contains material only suitable for adults.**

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><p>So maybe the night wasn't as extraordinary as I thought it would be. Sheldon can really be an ass sometimes. The words that spat from his lips could easily feel like daggers in the heart of any regular, normal person, any bystander that one might encounter on a day-to-day basis. Sheldon throws these daggers all of the time. It's a defense mechanism, I know; my neurological understanding can be both a blessing and a curse. But, no. Hell, no. Don't throw your daggers at me, Sheldon Lee Cooper. Not the person you claim to be your girlfriend. No! Not the person you kissed tonight with the passion of sixteen-year-old boy, chock full of hormones and eagerness and musty sweat, the kind of perspiration brought on by nerves and tantalizing excitement, the kind that Sheldon Lee Cooper experienced this very night.<p>

No, hell no, damn it. Just rip my heart out, why don't you? Seriously, how much more can I take? How much longer can I wait patiently while riding this crazy roller coaster: the wind and the air and the curves and the thrill, only to be followed by a hurdle splat hard on the ground. I'm tired of the falls, the punches, the games, the daggers to my already wounded heart. When you love someone, it hurts that much more, does it not? You don't have to be a biologist to understand that. I know he's limited emotionally, I know! I get it! But why, why can't he understand? Why can't he understand anything?

I'm tired and obviously shaken up. I'm also angry, the adrenaline rush gone, replaced by a feeling of uneasiness and confusion, which I feel pretty often, but tonight it seems to have reached its peak. I can still feel his tongue and his lips on top of mine, still feel his arms around my waist. I can smell him, taste him; I can see his eyes with a hint of longing and curiosity. But now all of that is gone, along with my patience.

The apartment was empty, of course, the cold darkness touching everything in its wake, including and matching my mood. I thought about calling Penny, but quickly dismissed the idea, knowing that I was just too tired to merge into my bestie persona. Right now I was just Amy, the same Amy that played the harp, loved cutting on brains and figuring them out, and always tried too damn hard to fit in. Calling Penny would be too exhausting; the only thing this Amy wanted to do was to fit into her pajamas and her sheets.

And that's exactly what I did.

My bed. My sanctuary. My escape. As I snuggled into my pillow and drifted off, the kiss with Sheldon would not leave my mind, no matter how hard I tried to erase it. Why hadn't I kissed him again? Why had I been so stubborn? And then it dawned on me: I had two chances to kiss him again – at the door and in the parking lot. _Sheldon had proposed kissing me again in the parking lot!_ And what did I do? Rolling over into more pillows, I groaned at my own stupidity, the anger finally beginning to slip away, replaced by misery.

The pillow was wet when I heard knocks at the door. At first, I thought I was dreaming, of course, and truth be told, I almost dismissed it and rolled over again, submitting to my exhausted state. But something inside caused an eye to open, and then another, and before I knew it, I was sitting erect and rubbing my eyes, my brain finally registering what was going on at my door.

Knock knock knock. Amy.

Knock knock knock. Amy.

Knock knock knock. Amy.

_He's here!_ I couldn't believe it. I glanced at the bedside clock: midnight. _What the hell?_ Then an unknown force seemed to launch my body from the mattress and cause me to patter to the door, one hand smoothing my tangles, the other attaching glasses to my face. When I reached my destination, I peered through the peep hole in the door and sure enough, there he was, wearing his bus pants.

I was about to fling the door open when I remembered those awful words he'd said just hours before, and anger began to creep through me like a virus invading its victim. I stepped back from the door, caught my breath, and placed a hand over my heart. _Adrenaline rush._ Calm down, Amy Farrah Fowler. He's here. That means something, doesn't it?

The door creaked a tiny bit as I slid it open in front of me. I kept my hand on the door knob, feeling its cold metal between my fingers as I leaned my weight against it. After everything that had happened earlier this evening, I figured I could use some support.

"Hello," he said.

_He speaks. _I nodded, not meeting his eyes. A strand of hair fell over my cheek, and I moved it out of the way, while studying my bare feet on the floor. "What are you doing here?" I finally asked.

When Sheldon cleared his throat, I finally looked up. I noticed that he was holding his white board at his side, along with his satchel hanging below it, next to his hip.

"I realize that it's late," he said, and cleared his throat again. "But, my evening seems to be ruined permanently, and I fail to sleep, so I'm here to say something to you with hope that it will remedy the situation."

"Oh." I was frowning, sending clear signals that he better hurry up with whatever he has to say. His eyes were shifting from me to the apartment, his fingers grasping the white board, curling in and out.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"No."

Sheldon cleared his throat again, clearly at a loss. He looked as white as his white board for a moment, and then I recognized a look in his eyes that meant he may change his mind and go home.

I wasn't about to let him get away without getting some words in. "Are you here to make sure that I didn't fall into a ditch?" I asked sarcastically. "Not that you would care, that is."

Sheldon looked away. His understanding of sarcasm was pretty good these days. "Those were my words," he said.

"Yes."

He fidgeted, the white board moving up and down with his body like a dancing monkey. He was clearly agitated and uncomfortable. Finally, he cleared his throat again and slowly met my eyes.

"Amy," he began. "When I was a child, there was a time that my father brought home a dog. It was a mutt that he'd found on the side of the road, and it stayed outside with us for a while. Unfortunately, it needed attention. Too much attention, actually. And for some reason, it liked me. I don't remember if the dog was a boy or girl, or even its name. But I do remember one day when it just wouldn't leave me alone, so I kicked it."

My mouth opened, but Sheldon held up a hand. "It wasn't hard. I was a child, and I'd responded with emotion. I didn't really hurt it, but it yelped and I'll never forget how I felt after I did it. It was the first time I'd ever experienced that feeling." He sighed, running his free hand through his hair as he thought about it. "It was just a dog, so there wasn't anything I could do about it. I couldn't talk to it, and it couldn't talk to me, so I couldn't fix it. I think that's what bothered me the most, the fact that it was unresolved and the feeling that it was out of my control. I couldn't fix it, and it tormented me for a long time."

I blinked at him, holding onto the knob even more, because I damn sure needed it. "Sheldon," I said roughly, "are you comparing me to a dog?"

Sheldon's eyes grew wide. "No! I mean, yes. I mean…" He stopped talking for a moment, shaking his head wildly. "Amy, I came all the way over here to apologize to you. This night has been miserable for me and after you left, it became even worse, almost unbearable. I have to apologize to you to make this feeling go away."

I sighed, crossing my arms, attempting to convince and remind myself that a Sheldon apology doesn't happen very often, no matter what the reason was. "So, you understand that what you said to me was very hurtful? Very, very hurtful?" Sheldon nodded, his lips almost pouting as he replied, "Yes. I'm sorry, Amy."

I nodded back, trying to let myself relax, trying with effort to let go of my anger. I looked over at his white board, which was hanging by a thread and close to falling on the floor. "You can come in if you want," I relented, stepping to the side.

He nodded as I opened the door wider for him. He sat his satchel and white board next to the couch, while I went to the kitchen to make some tea. But Sheldon held up a hand, shaking his head. "No thank you. I don't need any more tea. I'm already too wired as it is."

His bus pants were wrinkled. His hair was a mess, and he did have a wild look in his eyes. I walked back over, smoothing my flannel nightgown with one hand, my hair with the other. For the first time since I woke up, I wondered what I looked like. For heaven's sake, I must be a mess.

I walked close to him. "Sheldon, listen. I apologize as well. I'm sorry again about your nose, and everything else that happened tonight. You are probably correct in your analysis about my fight or flight syndrome. I'm still not sure what happened to me, so I suppose it will be best to take small steps, like you said, and progress when we are ready. It seems, based on my reaction tonight, that I must not be prepared for anything beyond French kissing." I couldn't believe I was saying it, but it had to be true. Why else would I have ran? At least Sheldon and I were now on the same page and could proceed in agreement.

Or at least that's what I thought. I noticed that Sheldon was frowning, his muscles in his face clenched across his jaw. For a moment I wondered if he was angry, but then I saw a softness in his gaze. "I told you before that I researched French kissing while I was on my trip," he said. I nodded, looking up to him as he took a step closer.

"Well," he continued, his eye twitching a little as he spoke, "the truth is that I researched _everything_ while I was away. I had the time, so I did the work. I'm happy to report that I am now an expert on sex and intimacy. I'm prepared and ready for when the time comes, Amy. But, like I said before, I had decided that the best route would be to take it slow, using small steps as we go along. I'd planned on taking little bitty, small, tiny steps." He paused. "But now…"

I widened my eyes. "But now what?"

He stepped away from me. He walked around the room for a moment, studying everything, his feet shuffling at a very slow pace. Finally, he turned around, his face flushed. "I've changed my mind, Amy. It's obvious now that you seem to think that I can't do anything. Which is wrong and hilarious, given that you know I excel at everything. Tonight, you insinuated that you initiated the French kiss instead of the other way around, which I suppose is true, sort of, even though it really was _my_ idea. But then later, when we were in the parking lot, it turned out that you were correct. I couldn't do it. So as you see, you _were_ correct, believe it or not, and I'm admitting it now. Here I stand before you – your boyfriend, an expert on everything, even sex, but I can't even initiate a French kiss." He paused, taking in a deep breath, an embarrassed, sheepish look spreading across his face.

"I've spent too much time, Amy. So much time researching and planning and thinking…" He paused again, his hands rubbing across his cheeks. "I just can't have it. I – we – need to resolve this issue, and we need to resolve it _now_."

I looked at him, and it seemed as though he were serious.

"Resolve what?" I asked quietly.

Sheldon rolled his eyes, waving his hands at me. "Sex, Amy. S–E–X. Sex. Coitus. That thing you've been waiting on for so long. It's time. It's time to get this over with. Both of us are geniuses, scientists, and good Lord, you're even a biologist, Amy, but both of us, as it now seems, are lacking in this area, even more than I thought. Mainly you, I'm afraid, after what has transpired this evening; that is apparently clear. But we can do this, Amy. I've decided, if we combine forces – my knowledge and expertise, along with your tenacity – I feel we can indeed master this thing, and triumphantly rise to the occasion." He coughed into his hand. "No pun intended."

I blinked, but the remainder of my body seemed to be in a coma, for the moment, anyway. _What was he saying? He wants to have sex?_

"What, what, what?" I rambled, my arms crossed over my chest. "You want to have… sex? You? Master of the small, teeny, tiny step plan?"

Sheldon shook his head, sighing. "Do I have to explain everything here? I did the time, Amy. I researched, and when Sheldon Lee Cooper says he researched, well, that's money in the bank, so to speak, especially for you. I am an EXPERT on sex. I have studied it, mastered it – just like everything else – and now I realize that there's no reason to wait. You need instruction, and I need you to, well, help me initiate it. I can't be lacking in this area. I have to master it now."

He began walking around the apartment again. "We will be perfect, Amy. You wait and see." He turned his head, looking around. "Where is your easel? I need to set up my white board."

I needed support again, so I caught myself on the couch. When I opened my mouth to speak, it was a squeaky whisper, barely audible over Sheldon's movement throughout my living room. It turns out he found the easel in my closet, and he quickly began to set it up.

"Have a seat, Amy."

After clearing my throat several times, my voice finally registered and I managed to breathe out a sound. "Can I…" I squeaked, "brush my teeth first?"

Sheldon turned, his brow furrowed as he retrieved notebooks and texts from his satchel. He sat them on the couch, along with his dry erase marker. "Brush your teeth?" he asked. "No, not yet. First I will instruct you."

He turned and wrote the word SEX on top of the white board, moving his wrist back and forth with a grand flourish. Stepping back, he studied it, before turning to me, still hanging onto the couch.

"I said, sit down, Amy," he repeated, twisting his lips, which were red, along with his cheeks. "Everyone knows that a student needs to sit for class."

What? Sheldon was about to teach me sex? He was an expert at sex? He'd mastered it? What the hell did he do on that trip?

Class? Seriously? I had so many questions, but for now, my voice was lacking, so I cleared my throat several times, swallowed once or twice, and then sat down as I raised my hand.

"Hold questions until the end of the presentation," he said with his back to me, moving the marker in long, dark strokes across the board.

One thing I knew for sure: my ordinary night that turned extraordinary was about to become even more extraordinary. But by now, you've probably figured that out.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. :)<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. They are the property of the creators of**_**The Big Bang Theory**_**. This fic is rated M. It contains material only suitable for adults.**

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><p><em>Sheldon has artistic ability. Yes, indeed.<em>

I watched as he slid the black marker back and forth along the white board, tracing the intricate details of an erect penis, detail by every little detail, labeling and moving and stroking. After that he began to draw the outline of a vagina, using the same flourish, the same detail, the same amazing step-by-step process. I was becoming aroused without meaning to, my hands folded neatly in my lap, my neck becoming hot under the collar of my flannel gown. Sheldon's back was to me, of course, but I wasn't interested in that; rather, I was more interested in his artwork, the drawings and technical elements of what was to become an amazing evening, an evening I would always remember and cherish.

At least that's what I'd hoped.

My eyes were scratchy behind my glasses, so I carefully rubbed them, trying my best to seem interested, trying so damn hard to keep my brain focused on the task at hand.

_That penis looks too large for that vagina, _I thought._ Hmmm. Interesting._

Finally, he turned around, and I realized that he was, in fact, speaking; perhaps he'd been speaking the entire time. Frankly, I didn't know.

"… as you can see," he was saying, "when a man becomes sexually aroused, the penis becomes engorged with blood, causing the spongy tissues to stiffen and the penis to become erect. This erect state makes it easy to place the penis inside of a woman's vagina during sexual intercourse."

He cleared his throat, without meeting my eyes, of course. His hand moved to the drawing of the vagina. "Now, here the vagina receives the male's penis during intercourse. The vagina is normally narrow, but it can definitely stretch…" He paused, his back to me, his hand on the side of the vagina.

_Interesting._

He moved to the side, pointing around his artwork. "There are two sets of glands, the greater vestibular gland and the lesser vestibular gland, and they are located on either side of the vagina and empty into the labial folds of skin. The secretions from these glands lubricate the labial folds during sexual excitation and intercourse."

After pausing again, he turned around to intentionally face me… finally. His eyes moved up and down my form before deciding to lift a single brow. "Perhaps you should take notes," he said.

I flushed without meaning to. "But, will there be a test?" I asked.

He pursed his lips as he thought about it. "Perhaps," he quietly replied, his gaze steady. "But perhaps you won't need it."

And then there was silence. It reminded me of the moment earlier in the evening, back in his apartment, right before I ran out of there like a bat out of hell. Currently, my nerves were tense and there was smoldering heat all around me, along with sexual words hanging in the air. With each passing second, my loins were on their way to acing this so-called "class."

_Should I stop this madness now?_ I thought. _Or should I do what he says?_

I thought about it._ Stop the madness, _my brain told me._ Get up off of this couch right now and, and…_

Sheldon suddenly turned red, like he knew what I was thinking, and perhaps he did. He quickly turned, the veins pulsating around his neck, and brought his marker back to the board, his hand shaking as he did so. In the top portion of the vagina, he drew a small circle.

"I left out something," he said, drawing a line to label it, and he wrote "clitoris." I felt my breath catch, and after a moment of silence and staring at the back of Sheldon's head, I finally said, "Yes, I'm familiar with that."

Sheldon didn't say anything for a moment and moved to another part of the board. "We will get back to that," he said, while drawing an oval shape, labeling as he went along. "I've also left out the most important organ," he said, with a little too much volume. "The brain, of course. It's fascinating, is it not, Amy?"

He went on to talk about the hypothalamus, the pituitary gland, and sex hormones. I began to yawn because these are things I already know, in great detail actually. I waited a moment before deciding to interrupt.

"Sheldon," I said, with a slight hint of irritation, "perhaps we could move on. I'm a neuroscientist. I already know all of this."

He turned around and looked at me, obviously irritated by the break of his momentum. "Yes, that is true, but it must be covered in the presentation, especially since our brains are so special and unique, and as you know, so important in this process. _And_…" he put emphasis on the word, "it's obvious that _your_ brain could use some work, especially after what has transpired this evening."

I sighed in exasperation. "I don't need a presentation. I already know this!"

Sheldon pursed his lips. "Everything?"

"Yes!"

"All of it?"

I sighed. "Of course."

Turning from me, Sheldon shook his head. "Amy, you obviously don't understand. You need my help, and you know it."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why? Because I'm a virgin? That makes no sense, because so are _you_." I stood up and walked to the board. "You _are_ still a virgin, aren't you?"

Sheldon looked horrified. "Of course I am! Why would you even ask such a thing?"

My mouth fell open as I gestured to the white board. "Because! All of a sudden, you say you're an _expert_ on sex. What am I supposed to think about all of this? What exactly you did you _do_ on that trip?"

"I researched!" Sheldon reacted. He was clearly discombobulated. I put my hands on my hips, shaking my head, determined to move this thing along.

"And, by the way, you've left out something else, something very important," I challenged him.

Sheldon's cheeks filled with air, his eyes raging with purpose as he stumbled for words. "Well… well… of all the things for you to say to me, woman; you know that if you would stop _interrupting_, I will get to that." He took a sideways glance to the board while rubbing his cheeks. "Anyway… I _said_ you should hold all questions and comments until the end of the presentation, and I meant it. I'm not done, Amy Farrah Fowler. SIT DOWN."

"No."

"Amy!" Sheldon's face turned a shade of scarlet red, while his eyes blinked in rhythm.

"You cannot do this without the proper instruction!" he exclaimed.

For a moment, I considered kissing him, right there on the spot. It was partly out of frustration, partly out of my lingering arousal. But fear got the better of me, yet again.

I moved back to the couch.

Sheldon let out a sigh of relief. "Now, as I was saying," he began again, his hand still on the drawing of the brain as he watched me intently, "this part of the brain…" But then he abruptly stopped, and after a moment, he brought his arms to his sides, his face flushing as his eye began to twitch. His gaze on me, but not quite to eye level, he stood quietly with a look of contemplation. I'm not sure if he was thinking to himself or studying something on my nightgown. Then, without looking up, he said quietly, "The clitoris is the female's most sensitive erogenous zone and the primary anatomical source of human female sexual pleasure."

Finally, he looked up. "In other words, orgasm." After clearing his throat, he slowly continued, holding my gaze with steady eyes. "Both the male and female's bodies undergo physical changes during sex, including increased blood flow to the genitals as well as an increase in pulse, blood pressure and body temperature. As intercourse continues, the male reaches a point at which muscle contractions in the epididymis, prostate and seminal vesicles propel semen from the penis into the female's vagina. The male's orgasm almost always happens at the same time as his ejaculation."

The vein on Sheldon's temple was pulsating. His face was still flushed and red, his palms moving on the sides of his pants. I got the feeling that Sheldon knew what an orgasm was, with personal experience. _Could it be?_ Perhaps he was more of an expert than I thought.

I raised my hand. It was a bold move, I know. His eyes moved up my arm with a hint of annoyance before giving me a slight nod. But at this point, he wouldn't look at me.

"What does an orgasm feel like?" I asked.

His head jerked in my direction. "Why would you ask that, Amy? You already know."

I shook my finger at him. "That is irrelevant, Professor Cooper. You said yourself that I need instruction. So obviously, you need to tell me everything. Are you indeed the expert that you claim?"

He licked his lips before glancing to the notes and textbooks sitting on the couch. "An orgasm is an experience that is unique to the individual," he said. "What causes and triggers the process is different for each and every person." He paused a moment, his hands still moving along the side of his pants.

"I'm sure you are familiar with the soda fountain science experiment," he continued, his gaze averted, "where you drop Mentos candies into a bottle of 2-liter soda, and the liquid explodes out of the top?"

I nodded, but he didn't see me. "Yes, I recall doing that experiment as a child," I said.

He nodded in the direction of the white board. "The ingredients that go into the Mentos' shell reacts with the sugar in the soda to cause the same dramatic reaction that you remember. As the candy dissolves in the soda, the gelatin and gum in it breaks the tension of the soda molecules, which allows the carbon dioxide bubbles to be released. This combination of gas buildup and release of surface tension in the molecules produces an incredible, but messy, reaction."

Sheldon stood still, his eyes still on the white board. "Buildup," he repeated softly, "and release." I didn't say anything as my mind visualized an explosion of Coke, however it was quickly replaced when my eyes fell on the white board, along with Sheldon's.

"As with all science experiments," he continued, "you have to explore variables to determine the extent of a reaction. One of the key parts of any successful experiment is replication, or doing it over and over, so that you can be sure of the results."

His back was to me, but I could tell that he was breathing heavily. What was going on?

"Yes, I concur," I told him softly, waiting for him to continue. _Is it hot in here?_ I thought. I moved a finger along my collar, stretching it for air as I waited patiently, the way that I always do. "Sheldon?" I asked, making sure to keep myself calm.

When he turned around, I felt my throat tighten at the sight of his hands and where they were placed: obviously meant to hide something in his pants. I also felt a surge of _something _when his eyes locked onto mine.

"Did that answer your question?" he asked.

I nodded, words escaping me as my brain switched into arousal mode, yet again. He took a step toward me. "I think we could use a break in the presentation," he said. "Do you agree?"

I nodded again, noticing the dark look in his eyes. I slowly stood, landing right in front of him as I looked up curiously, my fear creating butterflies in my stomach. He didn't say anything but studied my face before finally placing a finger on my bottom lip.

"You can brush your teeth now," he said.

"Oh," I breathed, nodding like a crazy person before tearing myself away, his finger sliding down my face as I did so. I was only able to leave because the fear remained, and I needed a moment to collect myself and breathe and think, not necessarily in that order. Somehow I managed to find the bathroom, but believe it or not, I had barely spit out my toothpaste when he appeared at the opening of the door, his eyes searching, his expression softer than before. I turned toward him and smiled, wiping my mouth with a washcloth as he walked in, meeting me by the sink.

"I apologize," he said quietly, "for the poor presentation and lack of adequate testing. It wasn't complete or what I had imagined or worthy of what we need; however, I've decided experimentation may be the best route for us."

He swallowed, long and hard. I could feel and hear his breathing, the steady rhythm of his heart, the slight shakiness of air moving in and out of his lungs. With a steady gaze, he continued, "It has already been made clear to me that you excel at French kissing, so perhaps we should start with that." He paused for a moment. "Can you kiss me again?"

I nodded as he placed a hand on my cheek. "Of course." I brought my hands around his neck, feeling the familiar heat under my fingers. For a moment, we stood there awkwardly, so I cleared my throat, breaking the silence.

"So, there won't be a test?" I asked for some reason, teasing.

He smiled sheepishly. "Well, I never said that." Then he paused, licking his bottom lip, the lids over his eyes fluttering as he stepped closer. "But don't worry, Amy Farrah Fowler," he continued, "I still maintain that I am an expert on sex, and tonight, I have a feeling that you will excel along with me. In fact, I am absolutely sure of it."

My eyes widened._ Perhaps, _I thought, nerves tingling. We were about to find out.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading. :)<strong>**  
><strong>


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